Keep Your Mind Where Your Feet Are.

Sometimes when things are so frustrating with my husband, I have tunnel-vision and focus on his itchy, irksome behavior or anything else over which I have absolutely NO control - his secret drinking, his in-front-of-me drinking, the fact that he's an alcoholic, how he loads the dishwasher - and *POOF*!  There goes my hour.  Or my day.  Or my week!  Year...yikes.

We just got back from our trip for the 4th, where we had some amazing outdoors experiences.  Amazing experiences that almost passed me by because I was stuck in my head and living through my husband's experience of withdrawal, cravings, distance, and anger, and not my own.  True, it sometimes seemed as though he was on vacation and I just happened to be there, but it didn't mean that I had to stop enjoying myself with such pathetic resignation after becoming aware of what I was doing.  No way.  NO. WAY.

So as my mind swirled with fear and worry and resentment and anger and hurt and grief and damn, ANGER, I literally stopped in my tracks and let my husband get even farther ahead of me on our hike, looked down at my feet, and closed my eyes.  I pressed into the dirt.  I wiggled my toes.  I tried with every force I could muster to figuratively shoot my mind and thoughts down my spine, through my legs and into my shoes.

"THERE.  You are THERE on the ground, on this path.  We are here in this moment," I told my mind and my feet.  They stared back at me, dusty and without response.  Which was comforting really because at that point in my insanity I half-expected something in return.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of the beautiful clear and crisp air, looked up at all surrounding me and felt myself become enveloped by the space.  Pushing out anything negative and harmful just for that moment.  It was so important that all the miles we had traveled to get there turn out something healing and peaceful for me if just for that moment.

Sometimes there is a fear of letting go of that focus, like taking our eyes off a boiling pot.  "If something happens and my guard isn't up, I'll be wounded" or "If I don't try to figure this out or prepare I will be left feeling helpless or stupid."  But it is impossible to be prepared for everything, and hyper-vigilance is hardly the answer.  Part of what was going on was simple, really - my husband's disease is progressing and, as my sponsor wisely pointed out, the withdrawal is progressing as well.  He couldn't have his drink when he wanted it (didn't want me to see that he had smuggled in liquor in his bag, perhaps) and so he was angry and on edge.  As for the rest of it - the specific How's and Why's - I can't figure it out, and shouldn't keep trying to.  It's futile and really just not my job, not my deal.  In fact, one of the sayings in both AA and Al Anon is "Figuring it out isn't one of the steps."  So I'm off the hook there.

The rest of the trip I was able to (mostly) enjoy myself, even the good, sweet moments with my husband, which was great.  I like to think it's because I was able to just stop obsessing about what's going on in his head and do the next right thing.  Which was look out the window on our drive, and watch the scenery go by, soaking it all in and living through my OWN experience and feelings.  Here's hoping I can keep on doing that.